A Brainstorm Family Thanksgiving
by garfieldodie
Summary: Calvin & Hobbes The Series Thanksgiving special! Dr Brainstorm finds himself having to whip up a last minute Thanksgiving dinner for his family, but without any inventions to help him, at the request of his mother, who is a heavy eater. With no real choice, he accepts help from Calvin and Hobbes to put everything together.


**Author's Notes:** _Hey, folks! I was getting an urge to do a proper holiday special, so I churned this one out over the last couple of days. I'm not sure where exactly it takes place in the canon, but for now, I'm going to say it takes place between_ Lost at Sea _and_ The Collective. _Possibly after_ The Luna Syndicate _, which takes place in the October after_ Lost at Sea _. So snap out of your food coma, unsnap your pants (seriously, if you wore restrictive clothing today, you're a fool) and enjoy a new Calvin and Hobbes Thanksgiving Special._

* * *

Sneer Hill was alight with insanity and mayhem as lasers flew back and forth between two parties.

One laser was being emitted from the CD player known as the MTM – or Mini-Time Machine, which was a pointless name since his time travel function was rarely used these days, so they were toying with renaming him Multi-Task Machine or something.

"They" being Calvin and Hobbes. The boy and the tiger were forced to defend themselves against the so-called evil menace that had sprung up out of nowhere to give them heck once again. They were dodging and diving behind shrubs and boulders. Calvin was firing the lasers while Hobbes somersaulted and dodged, trying to draw fire.

The other party involved was Dr Franklin J Brainstorm – vaguely evil and extremely screwed up, the man was doing everything in his power to kill a small child and an endangered animal. It'd be a lot more despicable if he was actually any good at it. He was firing his Servant Ray at them, determined to eliminate them from the face of the Earth.

Off to the side, thumbing idly through a magazine was Jack T Robot – Dr Brainstorm's creation-come-to-life. The Igor to his Dr Frankenstein. At least, that was the intention. In reality, he was more like the Shego to his Dr Drakken. He could never really get into his boss's evil schemes, so he just stayed off to the side offering snide remarks and occasional support.

Dr Brainstorm had been hoping that catching them unawares during one of the duo's nature walks would be sufficient opportunity to destroy them. However, he hadn't counted on Calvin actually carrying the MTM with him everywhere they went. After all, Brainstorm wasn't the only one out to kill the boy. There were countless others.

Calvin tucked and rolled before firing a blast in Brainstorm's direction. He wasn't really trying to hurt the guy. He was just trying to tire him out or drain the Servant Ray's power. It'd been a good seven minutes now, so hopefully it wouldn't go on for much longer.

"Yes, I have you now!" Dr Brainstorm bellowed, practically dancing as he fired shot after shot.

"You've been saying that for years, Frank," Jack remarked, reading an article about Kristen Stewart's lib-biting.

"But this time I've _definitely_ got him, Jack! I just need to stay focused! _OWW!_ "

Dr Brainstorm went flying backwards as the ground in front of him erupted. The resulting shower of dirt and grass hit him square in the face, and he stumbled backwards, tripped over a rock and fell flat on his back.

As he right himself, Calvin twirled the MTM on his index finger. "Frank, we haven't got all day," he complained. "We've got stuff to do! Places to be! People to meet!"

Hobbes cleared his throat. "I recall we were just wandering around the woods complaining about how bored we were."

"That's just something popular people like us do when we're busy."

"Does that include complaining constantly about reruns?" MTM queried.

"Oh hush, you. Let's just finish him off, shall we?"

"By 'finish him off', you mean…?"

"Scare him into giving up and going home."

"Thought so. Just give me a second to – "

Whatever the MTM was about to say, they never found out. One second, he was in Calvin's hand. The next, he was flying across the woods like a Frisbee, landing in the grass some thirty feet away from him and with a slight singe on his side that was still smoldering.

Calvin and Hobbes stared in shock. Then they looked back at Dr Brainstorm, who was wielding his Servant Ray and all set to do business with it. It was such a rare occurrence that the mad scientist ever got the upper hand that even Jack looked up from his article in surprise.

"Now then…," he growled quietly, slowly advancing on Calvin. "I think you're _well_ overdue for your imminent murder, don't you?"

Calvin swallowed, briefly wondering if this was actually happening. "Er… Frank?"

"Kid, if I've told you _once_ , I've told you _a million times_. It's Dr _Brainstorm_!"

The Servant Ray crackled with energy, ready to erupt. Jack put down his magazine and Hobbes got ready to pounce if need be.

Then…

"… _I would call you up every Saturday night, and we'd both go out in the morning light, and we sang…! Here we go again…_ "

Calvin, Hobbes and Jack looked at each other in bemusement. The song was coming from Dr Brainstorm's lab coat pocket.

To his credit, the mad scientist did a fairly good job keeping up the pretense that he was about to kill Calvin, but after a solid fifteen seconds of listening to James Blunt, he gave in, allowing his body to sag disappointedly.

"Erm… do you mind if I take this?" he asked, clearly embarrassed.

Back in familiar territory, Calvin waved his hand. "Go ahead."

Dr Brainstorm lowered the Servant Ray and pulled out his cell phone. As he did so, he didn't notice Calvin, Hobbes and Jack all slump with relief.

"Hello?"

"Frank! It's Dad!"

"Oh, hi, Dad. What's up? I'm kinda in the middle of something…"

"Just checking to make sure you're still good for dinner on Thursday."

Dr Brainstorm's brow furrowed. "Dinner?"

"Yeah, Thanksgiving dinner! How's it coming along? Got everything you need?"

The others watched in curiosity as the man before them seemed to sag a bit. His expression remained the same, but the rest of his body seemed to turn to jelly.

"Thanksgiving…? Oh… Yeah, er… don't worry, Dad. Everything will be ready. Totally."

"Good! Glad to hear it! Your mother's already in training for the big day! You know she loves a good meal! She's in the middle of cheeseburger feast over here. Jacqueline's on high speed grilling these things up. Your mother wants her stomach in peak condition for the big day! Hope you've got enough for all of us!"

Dr Brainstorm swallowed. "Right… er… no worries, Dad. In fact, I'm in the middle of preparing food as we speak, so I'd better get back to it!"

"Okiedokie! I'll let you get back to it! Sheila says don't forget the cranberries."

"Sheila doesn't like cranberries."

"No, she needs them for an experiment. She says they're super-conductive in the right circumstances. See you on Thursday, pal!"

The line went dead, but the phone remained at Dr Brainstorm's ear. He stared straight ahead, like a deer caught in the headlights.

Jack came up to him, gingerly removed the phone and placed it in the lab coat pocket again, but Dr Brainstorm's hand remained frozen where it was, as if in rigor mortis.

"Frank…?" he asked slowly. "What'd you promise your dad?"

Calvin and Hobbes were coming over, having already retrieved the MTM. "Something about Thanksgiving?" Hobbes asked.

Dr Brainstorm's voice came back. "Thaaaaaaaaaanks….give…give… _giving_ … dinn… dinn… dinn _errrrrr_ …," he stammered hoarsely.

Calvin nodded. "Ah, Thanksgiving," he said thoughtfully. "One of my mom's _least_ favorite holidays. She calls it the day her diet waves a little white flag."

"I remember last year we were stuck with turkey leftovers for three weeks," Hobbes said wistfully. "As a proud carnivore, even _I_ think that's too much meat."

Jack snapped his fingers in front of Dr Brainstorm's face. "Frank, what'd you do? Why does your dad think you're preparing food right now?"

Dr Brainstorm swallowed, slowly coming out of his fearful haze. "Because… they cornered me into making Thanksgiving dinner this year…"

"How did they 'corner' you?" Calvin asked.

"Well… normally, we just go to the biggest all-you-can-eat joint in the country and let my mom put it out of business. We all get enough to eat, and Mom's satisfied. _This_ year, however, my folks were so impressed by my 'kidnapping' of you that they thought I should have more responsibilities in the family."

Hobbes picked up where this was going. "And somehow, that included making Thanksgiving dinner yourself?"

"She's always wanted a 'traditional' Thanksgiving dinner. Trouble is, we can't get enough turkeys at once to satisfy her and stay under budget…"

Jack put his face in his hands.

Dr Brainstorm immediately became defensive. "I didn't think they were _serious_ about this! I thought we were just kicking around ideas! I had to look good and say, 'Well, _sure_ , I could cook a meal for everyone!' I didn't think they'd actually _do_ it! And I just kept letting it slide, you know? What with all these plans of mine to destroy you two…," he said, looking to Calvin and Hobbes frantically. "I just… spaced out…"

To his surprise, Calvin nodded sympathetically. "I know the pain you suffer from. Procrastination is an old friend of mine. Still, there's always _one_ thing that helps me out in the end."

"What's that?"

"Last minute panic. I do some of my best thinking that way."

Hobbes thought for a moment. "Can't you just invent something that will making an instant dinner? Don't you have that food synthesizer in your kitchen?"

"They want me to actually _cook_ it," Dr Brainstorm grumbled. "They don't want me using _any_ of my inventions. It's got be a genuinely home cooked meal. Mom can tell when food is real or not. It's her gift."

Jack tutted. "Our kitchen's more of a kitchenette. It's not really designed for cooking a big meal. We'd have to redesign quickly. Maybe get a proper oven…"

"That much?"

"Well, I don't think a Butterball turkey is going to fit in the microwave…"

Calvin cleared his throat. "Well, seems you're in a bit of a bind, Frank. You need a Thanksgiving dinner in two days. I don't suppose you're contracting…?"

It took a minute, but Dr Brainstorm soon realized what the boy was getting at – especially when he saw him and Hobbes grinning winningly at him. "Oh, no! Not again! I'm not teaming up with you to cook _dinner_! For heaven's sake, I have an image to maintain!"

Calvin shrugged. "Well, that's a shame. And here I have at my disposal a Transmogrifier Gun that can transform your lab into a complete kitchen that cook you a Thanksgiving dinner in no time…"

Dr Brainstorm stared at him for a long moment. Then he turned to Jack. "Jack?"

"Yes?"

"… Why don't _I_ have a Transmogrifier Gun?"

Jack shrugged. "I don't know. You've spent more time on the wood-based man-eating lawn chair."

"True…"

He turned back to Calvin and Hobbes.

"So it turns out I _do_ need help… I don't suppose you'd be willing to… you know…"

"… Help you?" Hobbes finished.

"Shhh! Don't say it out loud! You'll ruin it!"

Calvin nodded. "Never fear, Frank. We'll give you something to be thankful for this year."

" _Dr Brainstorm_!"

"Whatever." He held up the MTM. "MTM – give the others a call. Let them know that we've got some work to do bright and early."

* * *

The following morning, after convincing Andy, Sherman and Socrates that there would be no dicing with death today, the group arrived at a supermarket in Wyoming. It was a huge sprawling place with thirty-something aisles.

"Okay, how're we doing this?" Andy asked. "What do we need for Thanksgiving dinner?"

"Not to worry, gents," Calvin said, pulling out a sheet of paper. "I duplicated a copy of my mom's shopping list, so we _should_ be able to get everything we need."

"Well, there'd better be enough," Dr Brainstorm grumbled as they walked across the parking lot to the foyer. "If we're going to get food for my mother, we'd better make sure we have a _ton_ of it."

"Not to worry, Frank," said Hobbes. "This is the biggest supermarket in town. They're bound to have everything you need and then some."

Sherman cleared his throat. "I feel the need to point out that it's actually the day before Thanksgiving."

"What's your point?" Calvin asked.

They stepped through the automatic doors, and right away, they saw his point.

The store was surging with shoppers. All of them haggard, all of them frustrated and all of them shouting abuse at each other. The poor staff looked exhausted as they tried to get everyone in and out in an orderly fashion, frantically ringing things up at the checkout lines. It was compounded even more by slow-moving customers, annoying kids, and customers who were convinced they were being ripped off and wouldn't leave until it was fixed.

The gang stared at the crowd in horror.

"Who're all _these_ losers?!" Calvin cried.

"Last minute shoppers," Socrates said. "Seen 'em before. The ultimate consequence of procrastination is you become one of these folks."

"Some of them are folks who have jobs that keep them from doing their shopping sooner. It's only because today some of them have the day off that they can get away and load up," Jack added.

Andy eyed the crowd uneasily as two people beat each other up over a can of cranberry juice, even though there were clearly more stacked on the shelves behind them. "Do we dare?" he asked worriedly.

"We dare," Dr Brainstorm replied darkly. "Buckle up, kids. We're going in." He grabbed the nearest shopping cart and started for the doors. Then he stopped, put the cart aside and got a different one. "The wheels on that one were all screwed up," he grumbled.

The others followed into the store. Calvin immediately climbed into the cart so he could help get items that were higher on the shelves while Andy clung to the side. Hobbes, Socrates and Jack followed behind, their eyes scanning for the items on the list.

The crowd was so intense, however, that they were having trouble just squeezing down the aisles. They heard abuse being yelled as someone tried to steal some gravy mix out of someone else's cart. They winced and carried on.

Dr Brainstorm surged ahead towards the back of the store, hoping there was more room there to move around. "Jack – which way is the meat section?"

Jack did an internal scan of the store and pointed down the aisle. "It's down the back and to the right," he said.

"Good. There better be some turkeys still back there."

"A gang of turkeys buying turkey," said Andy.

"Talking turkey _about_ turkey," Sherman chimed in.

They fought their way like salmon swimming upstream. What should've been a thirty second walk took two minutes, and they were exhausted by the time they got there. What they found was _not_ encouraging.

The meat section was very nearly empty.

Calvin whistled. "Picked clean…"

"Breaks a carnivore's heart," Hobbes said sadly.

"Drat!" Dr Brainstorm groaned. "There must be _something_ left!"

Socrates scanned what was left. "Don't suppose your mother is open to lean pork chops?"

"The seafood section still looks full," said Andy. "How does she feel about smoked salmon?"

"Oooh, _I'm_ game!" said Hobbes eagerly.

"No!" Dr Brainstorm snapped. "No substitutions! Only the _best_ for my mother! It's turkey or nothing!"

"'Nothing' is looking like a real possibility, Frank," Jack said.

"Dr Brainstorm! Stop being so negative, Jack! We need your pluck and determination now more than ever to keep up morale!"

"My 'pluck'…?"

Sherman stood on top of Andy's head. He took a long look around until he spied a deep freeze cooler that was mostly empty. He saw something absolutely beautiful inside. "Look!" he squeaked, pointing straight at it. "There's one! There's one!"

Dr Brainstorm followed his tiny rodent finger and saw the turkey in question. It was nice and big, just what they needed. "Success!" he crowed. He ran for it, hoping to nab it before someone else did.

Unfortunately, just as he'd wrapped his fingers around the netted loop it was held in, another hand grabbed the body. He looked up the arm at the owner. It was a woman with frazzled blonde-grey hair, mid-fifties and a lifetime smoker. She glared at Brainstorm fiercely.

"Get yer filthy paws off my bird!" she drawled, pulling on it.

Getting over the shock, Dr Brainstorm pulled back. "No way, lady! I saw it first! Unhand my bird at once!"

"I've been shopping here for three hours! I'm not giving up yet! Give it!"

"Never! This is _my_ turkey! Let go _NOW_!"

The others watched from the cart in bemusement, wondering why no one was coming to break it up. To the other shoppers, it was just a typical pre-Thanksgiving shopping experience. Even the staff were unfazed by it.

"What do we do now?" Calvin asked. "We can't just stand here."

Sherman looked around some more, and then he saw there was a black phone on the wall that he knew was linked to the store's public address system. "I'll be right back," he said to Andy, climbing down from the boy's head and scurrying across the floor under the cooler.

Dr Brainstorm pulled harder and harder at the turkey, absolutely determined to keep it in his grasp. Luck was on his side for once, as she was holding onto the body of the bird, which was moist from being taken out of the cooler. That, coupled with the heat from her hands, caused it perspire a bit of condensation, and that caused it to slip out of her hands.

The resulting momentum caused Dr Brainstorm and the turkey to go flying backwards. Thankfully, they landed on something soft, and the mad scientist found the turkey sitting safely in his lap. He got to his feet triumphantly.

"Ah-ha!" he crowed. "Thought you could outwit me, did you?! Well, madam, I'll have you know that I am _never_ defeated! Never!"

He was just turning to leave when he bumped into the soft thing he'd landed on. It was the largest brute of a man he'd ever seen, with a thick beard, sunglasses, tattoos and an angry scowl. The man glared down at Brainstorm, clearly ready to rip his windpipe out.

"What're you doing stealing a turkey from my old lady?" he hissed.

Dr Brainstorm whimpered involuntarily before clearing his throat. "Well, I was… I mean, I _wasn't_ … I mean…"

The woman stormed up. "Everyone saw him! He made a pass at me to steal _my_ turkey!" she shouted, all set to swipe the bird away from him.

"Oh, is that so?" the brute grunted, grabbing Brainstorm by the lapels of his lab coat.

Calvin and the others were trying to figure out how to proceed in rescuing him when the cheap music on the loudspeakers cut off, and they were surprised to hear Sherman's voice reverberate across the building.

" _Attention, shoppers! Black Friday sales are starting early this year! Plenty of random stuff you don't need is going on sale now in various other stores! Get them while they're hot! That is all!_ "

Every shopper froze where they stood, clearly stunned. Then, they started abandoning their groceries and hurrying out the door.

Socrates watched in amazement. "Rampant consumerism wins every time."

"Nice to see that feeding their families comes silver to a new fridge with LED lighting," Jack muttered.

The redneck lady grabbed her burly husband away from Brainstorm and dragged him effortlessly towards the doors. "Babe, come on! We gotta get that big screen TV!"

"I thought we were shopping for dinner, woman!"

"Screw dinner! I want that TV! Come on!"

She dragged him by the shoulder all the way down the aisle and out the doors with the rest of the crowd. Within seconds, the store was a ghost town, with only Calvin, Hobbes, Andy, Sherman, Socrates, Dr Brainstorm and Jack, as well as a few startled clerks.

The clerks all looked at each other, then they looked at the bemused Brainstorm, still clutching the turkey. One of the cashiers cleared his throat. "Do you need any help finding anything, sir?" he asked.

Dr Brainstorm looked between him and his group before finding his voice again. "… Yes, actually. Do you still have any stuffing left?"

* * *

They soon had everything on the list and got everything paid for – which led to the amazing discovery that Dr Brainstorm had a debit card. They were still talking about it when they teleported back to the Yellowstone Lab.

"How the heck do you even _have_ a bank account?" Calvin demanded.

"My checks get directed-deposited there!" Brainstorm replied defensively.

"What checks?!"

"Royalties."

"For what?"

"For some innovations I made to the world's medical technology after college. It was all hush-hush."

"You made _improvements_ to the world of medicine?" Sherman asked incredulously.

"Gotta say, Frank – that's not very evil," said Andy.

"Kind of the opposite of evil," Socrates agreed.

"More like 'good'," Hobbes put in.

"Oh shut up!" Dr Brainstorm shouted furiously. "Can we just get on with getting dinner ready for tomorrow?! Geeze!"

The others rolled their eyes and went to work setting down the groceries.

Calvin pulled the Transmogrifier Gun out of his pocket. "Okay, so… what kind of kitchen are we going for here?"

Dr Brainstorm blinked. "A… _big_ … one?" he asked.

"You don't know?"

"I know I need one with an oven!"

"Well, I need something a bit more specific than that so I know what to telepathically transmogrify!"

"Yeah, come on, Frank. Get your head in the game," Socrates added.

Jack finished putting down his groceries and spoke up. "If I might just make a suggestion…," he announced. "I can link with the internet and go through a catalog of different kitchen sets. Maybe we can find one suitable for our purposes."

"Works for me," said Hobbes. "How do we do it?"

Jack pressed a button on the side of his head, and a moment later, his eyes became a large projector that put a giant image on the wall. They saw the giant image of a sizeable kitchen with all the amenities.

"Okay," the robot announced. "How about this one?"

Dr Brainstorm tilted his head as he looked at it. "Hmmmm… Kind of small…"

Jack blinked, and the image changed to an entirely different kitchen. "How about now?"

Calvin scratched his chin. "Hmmmm… I don't think it'll fit in here."

Jack blinked, and the image changed again. "This one?"

"Too white. Stains too easily," said Andy.

Blink. "This one?"

"Looks like it belongs in a New York apartment," said Sherman. "You can't cook a Thanksgiving dinner in a New York apartment."

"Oh, picky, picky, picky…" Blink. "How about _this_ one?"

"Jack, _none_ of these will do at all! They're ridiculous! We can't cook in jokes like these!" Dr Brainstorm snapped.

"Frank, you're wasting time."

"Well, it's not _my_ fault you have no taste in interior decorating!"

"Interior decorating?! We're only going to have this thing for a day!"

"All right, time out!" Socrates said, stepping between them. "Jack, as someone who has experience with big fancy kitchens, let me help you with this. We need something functional, stainless steel counters, _monster big_ ovens, lots of pots and pans, a fridge, a freezer and plenty of oven mitts. Can you find something like _that_?"

Jack blinked, and instantly, a new image that matched what Socrates was talking about was projected onto the wall. "You mean that one?"

They all looked up at the picture in amazement. It looked like a professional kitchen one would find in a restaurant.

"Everyone satisfied?" Socrates asked.

Dr Brainstorm nodded, in awe. "Er… yes, actually. That looks ideal. Yes."

"Okay, you heard him. Cally – fire it up!"

Calvin glared at him for telling him what to do before studying the picture. Then he aimed the Transmogrifier Gun at the kitchenette and pulled the trigger. The entire wall warped and rippled before an exact replica of the kitchen stretched out and grew in the south side of the lab.

"Okay," he said. "I don't know how long that'll hold. The gun's effects are temporary, so we only have at least… I think ten hours."

Dr Brainstorm shrugged. "Sure, no problem. It's not like this is going to be hard, right?"

"Can any of us actually _cook_?" Sherman asked, scanning the occupants of the new kitchen doubtfully.

"I can… make waffles," Andy said sheepishly.

"Tuna fish sandwiches," added Hobbes.

"I can pour a bowl of cereal," Calvin said proudly.

"I can put a quarter in a gumball machine," Socrates said.

"I can invent something that can cook _for_ me," said Dr Brainstorm.

"And regrettably, that isn't me," said Jack.

They all stared at each other.

"Yeah, we're going to need to step our game up," Sherman said.

"Agreed," said Hobbes, pulling the MTM out of Calvin's pocket. "MTM – I don't suppose you can get us a decent-sized Thanksgiving Day cookbook?"

"I think I can just about manage that," MTM replied. "Take a look in my hypercube. I think I have a fairy recent one."

A small slot opened on the back of the MTM's casing, and Hobbes reached inside the swirling vortex of junk the CD player had stored inside. He put his paw on a book and hauled it out. He was pleased to see a picture of a delectable-looking turkey with all the trimmings on the cover.

"I think we're off to a good start," he said, passing the book to Dr Brainstorm.

The mad scientist opened the book and started flipping through the pages. "Let's see…," he muttered. "Turkey… turkey… turkey… Found it! 'Turkey – be sure to remove bird from freezer at least twenty-four hours before cooking'…"

They all stared at the turkey, still fresh from the freezer at the supermarket.

"… Looks like we're in for a bit of a wait," said Andy.

"Told you we should've driven instead of teleporting," said Jack.

Dr Brainstorm grumbled. "Great! Just great! We can't even start on the turkey because we have to wait an entire day to cook it!"

"Chill out, Dr B," Socrates said, patting him on the back. "We'll just come back tomorrow and finish the turkey!"

"Tomorrow is the actual holiday," said Calvin worriedly. "Are any of us going to be able to get here without being smothered by family?"

"… Maybe?" Andy said uncertainly. "Might be kind of difficult for me to escape."

"Yeah, and Elliot's got his whole family coming over as well…," Socrates added.

"Well, we'll figure something out," Sherman said hurriedly. "Let's just press on."

"How?! The main dish is ineffective! Useless! Frozen! What the heck am I supposed to do with this frozen bird if I can't use any of my inventions?!"

Hobbes put a paw on his shoulder. "We deal with the gazillion _other_ things that we bought today. You know, stuffing, potatoes, cranberries, pies, vegetables, casseroles…"

Dr Brainstorm looked at all the other groceries sitting in a heap. "… Yeah," he said at last. "Yeah, okay… Let's get started."

* * *

Soon, they were hard at work in the new kitchen with everyone at a station. Calvin had torn out pages from the cookbook so everyone could work simultaneously. He was taking care of the stuffing, Hobbes was doing the vegetables, Socrates was making mashed potatoes, Andy was preparing devilled eggs and Sherman was hard at work on a pumpkin pie.

"Man, it's so weird doing my own cooking," Socrates said as he peeled the potatoes over the chopping board. "I'm used to people doing it for me."

"A little independence never hurt anybody," Hobbes said, chopping up some carrots with his sanitized claws.

"I'd like you to remember that next time you wake me up at two in the morning to make you a tuna fish sandwich," Calvin scowled, in the middle of chopping up celery as carefully as he could. It wasn't every day he got to make use of a really heavy kitchen knife.

"Fascinating holiday, Thanksgiving," Sherman mused as he got a measuring cup down from the cupboard. "Kids these days are being taught that the Pilgrims and the Native Americans were having a nice quiet dinner together. They never mention the way the Pilgrims slaughtered and butchered and enslaved several of the Native American tribes and stole their land away from them no matter where they went."

They all stopped what they were doing and stared at him in surprise.

Sherman cleared his throat, realizing he'd just killed a whole lot of innocence with his factoid. " _Any_ way…," he said slowly. "I'm going to find the nutmeg."

"Maybe that's why overeating on Thanksgiving became so popular," said Andy. "Stuffing oneself with so much food is a way of keeping the immense horrifying guilt at bay."

"That, and how else is the cranberry industry going to actually sell any of that crud," Socrates added.

Dr Brainstorm burst into the room frantically. "How's it coming? Is it coming? Tell me it's coming! Is it coming? _Why won't you tell me if it's coming?!_ "

"It's coming, Frank! It's coming! Jeeze! Lighten _up_!" Calvin snapped, showing him the bowl of stuffing he was mixing.

"Okay, okay, _good_ …! Good… I just… Make sure the stuffing's not too dry, okay? Mother doesn't like dry stuffing!"

"This is going up a turkey's butt later. Let's not get whiny about _dryness_ , okay?"

Jack came up behind him and grabbed him by the lab coat. "Come on, Frank. Let them do it. They've got the MTM monitoring the proceedings, so we might as well get the place ready for when your family visits tomorrow night."

Dr Brainstorm eyed the MTM. The CD player was sitting on the counter near the stove. Using his manipulator arms, he helped Hobbes adjust the settings on the stove top so he could effectively boil the vegetables.

"Well… Okay, fine. Come on, Jack. Let's go set up the dining room table."

"Good boy."

The two walked out of the kitchen while the others continued cooking.

Sherman heaved the mixing bowl he'd been using and poured the contents into the pie crust. "How did pumpkin become such an autumnal staple anyway?" he demanded. "I don't even think pumpkin spice is all that good!"

"Everyone ignore my hamster," Andy said as he put the eggs on the stove. "He has no soul."

" _I_ think he has a valid point," Calvin said. "I honestly pumpkin pie is just a synonym for 'mediocrity'. The _best_ pumpkin pie I ever had didn't taste all that different from the _worst_ pumpkin pie I ever had."

"That's it! You're not invited to my next party!" Socrates snapped angrily.

* * *

Dr Brainstorm and Jack stood in the rear part of the lab – close to the landing bay where they kept the rockets – and set to work on making the place look nice. Jack had vacuumed thoroughly while Brainstorm got out all the nice furniture.

"Okay…," Dr B murmured, going over a checklist. "Got all the orange and yellow decorations out… Ceramic turkey… Plastic Pilgrims… The neon-lit 'Gobble-Gobble' sign… I think that's enough. Let's get out the dining room table."

"On it," Jack replied. He pulled a lever on the wall.

The floor opened up, and a second later, a long twenty foot table rose from below, settling neatly on the hardwood floor.

"She only said the _food_ couldn't be done with inventions. She never said anything about furniture," Dr Brainstorm pointed out firmly.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Jack replied.

"It does. Now then – help me put the chairs out. We've got one's for you and me… then Sheila and Jacqueline… one for Dad, and… hang on…"

As Jack set up the ordinary wooden chairs, Dr Brainstorm dragged out two chairs that were made of metal with thick cushions on the seats and also strapped together to form a bench.

"Here's _Mom's_ chair…," he grunted, shoving them into place.

Jack raised a metal eyebrow. "I thought you said she'd lost weight."

"She has. And by the way, you know her weight's a sore subject, so don't mention it when you see her. She's been working her tail off to gain it back."

Jack shrugged. "The woman cares about her figure."

"Jillian Michaels's worst nightmare. Now come on. Help me get out the good plates. The ones with the little cartoons of the Pilgrims beheading the anthropomorphic turkey."

* * *

The hours passed, and everyone worked hard. Food was prepared, furniture was rearranged, and everyone worked frantically. MTM made sure everyone stayed on task in the kitchen, and also made sure Calvin didn't play with the knife used for chopping vegetables. Socrates had to start over on the mashed potatoes when he thought it would be funny to trick Sherman into falling into the pot, but that backfired since it was still technically shedding season, which caused them all to curse global warming.

Most of the food had been set up and sealed into stasis chambers to stay fresh until the morrow, seeing as how the fridge would vanish at some point. Dr Brainstorm and Jack were loading food into them as it was handed to them. To their surprise, the others had done a half-decent job on the cooking. Somehow, with all of them working together, they'd gotten the food cooked in only five hours altogether.

They were just loading the salad into the stasis chamber when they all felt something weird in the air. They looked up and saw that the ceiling above the kitchen was wavering like Jell-O, making them all feel a little uneasy.

"Does that mean what I think it means?" Jack asked.

"It means the transmogrification is starting to wear off!" Calvin yelled. "Hurry up, everyone!"

They all ran frantically, trying save whatever they could and shove it in the stasis chamber.

"I feel like the final moments of one of those dumb cooking competitions on TV!" Andy grumbled.

"You know, they don't actually force the contestants to stop cooking," Socrates pointed out. "Everyone gets to finish their dish, and they just edit it together to make it look more frantic."

"Thanks, Socrates. I'll be sure to tell my mom so we can watch something else for a change."

"Stop yakking and start loading!" Dr Brainstorm shouted frantically. "Hurry! Before it's too late!"

Already, bits of the furniture were being to waver, and then, one by one, in a blip, each piece of furniture that been brought in via the Transmogrifier Gun popped out of existence. The fridge, the freezer, the sinks, the counters…

Calvin barely had time to grab the MTM before the counter he was sitting on blipped away.

"Is anything left in the oven?" Sherman asked.

"Just the pumpkin pies!" Andy replied.

"Oh, _great_!" Calvin grumbled. "How much longer do they need?"

"About another minute or two!"

"I think we can spare a minute of sitting in an oven," Socrates said.

"Mother won't like that we didn't let it cook all the way!" Dr Brainstorm complained.

They all stared at him. "Seriously?!"

"She's a very fussy eater!"

"Frank, I've seen her anything set in front of her!" Andy shouted.

" _Incorrect_! She _always_ has the same foods! She just prefers _a lot_ of those same foods at once! And believe me – she can _tell_ when something hasn't been cooked all the way, even if it's only by one minute!"

Calvin thought about that. "On some level, I kind of get that…"

Then they heard the timer going off. The pies were finished, but the oven was already starting to warp and change.

"Quick! Somebody get them!" Calvin cried.

In a flash, Hobbes bounded into the warping kitchen, grabbing a pair of oven mitts as he went. He put them on, ripped open the oven and pulled out the tray with four pies on it. He gripped it carefully, kicked the twisting and undulating door shut before running as fast as he could clear of the kitchen.

The oven vanished. Then the kitchen vanished. The old kitchenette was back.

Hobbes made it to the stasis chamber safe and sound. "Four average pies – made to order!" he announced. "No autographs, please!"

Jack took the pies and shoved them in the stasis chamber, slamming the door and locking it. "There! All safe and sound, and ready for consumption in the morning."

"Now all we have to do is come back in the morning to start work on the turkey," said Sherman, looking at the frozen bird that sat on the work bench nearby.

Dr Brainstorm stared at the food in the chamber. "I only pray it's enough for everyone…," he murmured.

"Relax, Frank, that's enough for a family of four. Plus two robots who don't eat anything," said Socrates.

"Family of four… Ugh… There's no way that's enough for Mom… She's going to spend Thanksgiving griping at me… And Sheila's just going to _rub it in_ … And Dad's just going to sit there and assure me I'll do better next time… Guh! This is going to go _completely wrong_! I just know it!" he wailed, leaning against the stasis chamber melodramatically, burying his face in his arm.

They all watched the panicking man in silence, not really knowing what to say to reassure him.

Finally, as always, it fell to Andy. He took a step forward and put a hand on the man's back. "Look… Dr Brainstorm… don't worry. We'll… help you in any way we can. I know we can't use technology to prepare more food, but… we'll think of something. Just try not to panic yourself into a heart attack, okay?"

Dr Brainstorm looked down at the boy in silent contemplation before simply nodding. "Right… well… I'm going to… get ready for bed then… I'll see you all later."

Jack looked at him quizzically. "Frank, it's only seven-thirty…"

"Just… let me have this, Jack."

The robot nodded and let the man slouch off towards his bedroom.

"Poor guy…," said Socrates. "Gonna drive himself crazy over this."

"I still don't get what's got him so nuts over this," Calvin complained.

Hobbes shrugged. "He wants to please his mother, I guess."

"Why would _anyone_ want to please their mother? What have they ever done except push us around, yell at us and give us chores to do while _they_ get to do whatever they want _when_ ever they want."

Everyone stared at him for a long moment.

"… I'm guessing you don't know where babies come from," said Sherman.

"Dad says I was a blue light special at K-Mart."

Jack blinked. "… Well, I can understand not caring about pleasing your _dad_ …," he said.

* * *

The next day, Dr Brainstorm finally worked up the nerve to leave his room. He was, for once, out of his lab coat and was instead wearing nice clothes – blue sweater, white plaid shirt underneath and nice slacks. He fidgeted awkwardly in them as he paced the house, wishing they would get there sooner so he could start yelling at someone.

Jack came out of his room around 11:00. He looked his creator up and down. "Wow… put on your big boy clothes today."

Dr Brainstorm glared at him. "Shut up. It's just for today. Man, I hate family get-togethers."

"Well, try not to sweat too much. We still have about seven hours before they get here."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…"

There was a beeping at the main console. They went over and saw five lifeforms standing outside at the elevator door. He pressed a button to let them in.

"Finally!" Dr B grunted. "I feel like I've been waiting for years."

"Don't have a hemorrhage, Frank. Just let all that stress out."

"Let it out? Fine. I'll let it out," he growled, turning on Jack. " _IT'S DOCTOR BRAINSTORM!_ "

Jack jumped backwards in surprise before nodding in acceptance. "… Better?"

"… Yeah, a bit. Thanks, Jack."

"No sweat."

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open, revealing Calvin, Hobbes, Andy, Sherman and Socrates at the door. They stepped out, looking proud of themselves.

"About time you all got here! I've been going crazy! We need to get this turkey ready!"

"Not to worry, Frank," Calvin said, pulling the Transmogrifier Gun out of his pocket. "We'll just make the bare minimum this time. Oven, a counter and the necessary pots and pans to get through the day."

"Yes. Fine. Whatever. Just do it!"

Calvin rolled his eyes, pointed the Gun at the wall and squeezed the trigger. A laser shot out and turned the wall into part of the kitchen they'd had yesterday – oven, counter and a stack of necessary pots and pans for taking care of a turkey.

Dr Brainstorm ran over and pulled the turkey out and placed it on the counter. He pulled out the cookbook and found the turkey section. "Okay… it's thawed out, so I'll just… huh… 'Remove giblets from cavity and stuff with one cup of prepared stuffing'…"

Calvin cleared his throat and showed him the bowl of stuffing he'd made the day before.

Finding a measuring cup on the counter, Dr Brainstorm scooped one cup and held it up to the turkey. He stared at the bird, knowing what had to be done.

"Jack?"

"Yes?"

"… You're sterile, right?"

Jack sighed. "Oh, just give it here…"

Dr Brainstorm gratefully passed him the measuring cup, allowing his robot to reach inside the bird and effortlessly remove everything that needed removing.

Once that was finished, Dr Brainstorm placed it in the roasting pan, then rubbed butter all over the turkey, studying the cookbook.

"Let's see… 'Cover with foil and roast at 325 degrees for five and a half hours'."

Completing the instructions, he loaded it into the oven and set everything up. He leaned against the counter, tired.

"Boy… I don't know how this is going to be enough…"

"Don't worry, Frank. We already took care of that," Calvin assured him.

Dr Brainstorm looked down at him, almost daring to hope. "You… what? How?"

Calvin took out his hypercube, reached inside and pulled out a tupperware dish. He popped open the lid and revealed a heap of green bean casserole inside.

"What's this?"

"Leftovers."

Jack stared. "How can you have leftovers already? It's not even noon yet."

"Time travel," Hobbes explained. "We popped forward to tonight when dinner was over and took all of _our_ leftovers."

"Yeah, Mom and Dad will be cool with it. Mom in particular. Her diet will be preserved for a change."

Dr Brainstorm eyed the bowl skeptically. "Is that all?"

"Oh _please_ ," Calvin snorted. He held the hypercube upside down, and a whole bunch of Tupperware dishes, pots and pans poured out, all full of typical Thanksgiving Day foods.

"How'd you have _this much_?" Jack asked.

"Some from them, some from us," Andy said.

"And the rest is from Elliot's family," Socrates said, nodding sagely. "We've got a _ton_ of relatives that come over, and they _all_ bring food. His folks will be pleased to see the freed up fridge space."

"The benefits of having a rich-people family," Sherman noted.

Dr Brainstorm stared at the still-growing pile of food before him, feeling a strange giddiness coursing through his veins. "This could work…," he said. "If we can just prepare this, heat it up and put some spices on it, I think we'll be in business!"

"Then let's get to it!" Calvin declared. "Show me the way to the kitchen knives!"

They all blanched a bit.

" _I'll_ deal with cutting stuff," Jack said, steering the boy away from the kitchen. " _You_ can fix up the orange jello with the tiny marshmallows."

"Awwww, come on!"

* * *

That evening, the Brainstorm clan was walking across the park towards the boulder they knew lead down into the lab.

"I can't wait to see how my dumb brother botched up Thanksgiving," Sheila sneered. "Probably tried to reanimate the turkey."

" _You_ tried to reanimate a cheeseburger last month," Jacqueline pointed out helpfully.

"Oh, shut up!"

"Now, now, girls," Father Brainstorm said reassuringly. "Let's give Frank a chance. He sounded confident when I called him the other day."

"Bah – I can't believe we're really doing this. I prefer when we just go out to a restaurant and ignore each other."

"I know, sweetie, but you know your mother just wants a nice family meal together. We don't do that enough anymore. Let's just sit together and enjoy each other's company."

Sheila made a face but allowed her father to put an arm around her and rub her shoulder as they approached the boulder.

Jacqueline took a look over her shoulder at the huge figure lumbering behind them. "How are you doing, Mrs B?" she asked politely.

"I'll be fine, sweetie!" Mother Brainstorm replied in her usual gruff voice. "Just gotta keep my strength up! You know I've been starving myself all day in anticipation of tonight's dinner!"

"I know! You only had _three_ buckets of fried chicken earlier! I'm so proud of you!"

"Thanks, dear."

Jacqueline helped the older woman over to the giant boulder where the others were waiting.

"Here we are, girls!" Father Brainstorm said. He pressed a hidden button the side. "Frank?"

A crackled voice on an intercom came through. " _Dad_?"

"Yep! We're all here!"

" _Okay, hang on_ …"

A second later, the boulder lifted up as if on hinges, revealing the fully-functioning elevator inside. They all herded inside. Sheila pressed the button, and down they went.

"… He better have remembered my cranberries," she grumbled.

A few seconds later, the doors slid open again, and they found themselves in the lab, being greeted by Jack, who was about the same as he ever looked save for a bowtie around his neck.

"Greetings, Brainstorm clan," he said in a very bland tone, holding out his arms. "I have been instructed to take your coats."

"Thanks, Jack," Father Brainstorm said amiably, shrugging off his jacket and handing it to him.

"Whatever," Sheila grumbled, tossing her coat over Jack's face.

Mother Brainstorm heaved off her own oversized jacket. "Thank you, Jack," she grunted, throwing the whole thing over Jack, covering him almost entirely.

"Howdy, Mrs. B. Happy Thanksgiving," he said, taking this in stride.

"And to you, dear."

"Hope you brought your appetite. Frank worked hard."

"Darn well _better_ have…"

She waddled past and followed her family into the dining room. They stared at what they saw.

Dr Frank Brainstorm, in his nice clothes and his lab goggles removed, stood with his hands behind his back. "Mom. Dad. Sister. Sister's robot," he said calmly. "Welcome! Who wants dinner?"

His family stared at the dinner table. A massive turkey sat in the middle, surrounded by plates and bowls of food from mashed potatoes to salad to stuffing to casseroles to devilled eggs to pie after pie after pie. Clearly enough food for an entire army, which was definitely enough for Mother Brainstorm.

"Quite the spread you've got here, Frank!" Father Brainstorm remarked, rubbing his hands together.

"Sure is," Sheila murmured, eyeing her brother suspiciously. "How'd you do it? Transformation Ray or something? Did any of this used to be furniture?"

"Absolutely not!" Frank said defensively. "This food is one hundred percent natural!"

"Except for the processed foods," Jack said, joining the group from behind. "But then, that's the best part about them."

"Frank, I swear – if you've reconfigured the molecular structure of a bunch of junk to pass it off as food, you're _so_ grounded!" Mother Brainstorm said sternly.

"Only you would know for sure, dear," Father Brainstorm said, putting an arm around her. "How about you try something and find out."

"Please do, Mother," Dr Brainstorm said pleasantly – not to mention smugly. "Give it a try. Take your pick."

They all eyed him suspiciously.

Finally, Mother Brainstorm waddled over to her special chair and lowered herself down. The twin metal chairs creaked, but they held up. She grabbed the nearest fork, stabbed some green bean casserole and held it up to her face. She gave it a sniff.

"Smells normal…"

They all watched as she placed the food in her mouth. She chewed a few times, then swallowed, and they awaited her verdict.

"… It's real," she said quietly. In fact, it was so quiet, it almost sounded normal, which was so out of character, they almost thought she'd set nothing at all.

"It's _real_?!" Sheila whined. "Oh, _come on_! He was supposed to fail!"

Jacqueline jumped up and down and clapped. "Well done, Frank! You did it!"

"Great job, son!" Father Brainstorm approved, patting him on the back. "I knew you could do it!"

"Glad to hear we don't have to call an ambulance," Jack sighed. "So perhaps we should all sit down so everyone can take part?"

"Quite right!" Dr Brainstorm agreed. "Everyone park your keister and let's eat!"

They all went to their chairs and took their seats. Father Brainstorm at the corner next to his wife, Dr Brainstorm at the other end, Jack and Jacqueline on one side, and Sheila next to her dad.

"Frank, say grace," Mother Brainstorm ordered.

"We're still doing that?" Jack asked.

"Yes, mommy," Dr Brainstorm sighed.

Everyone bowed their heads and folded their hands.

"Lord…," he began, still not sure what to say. "We thank you for this food… this totally _real_ food," he added, taking a moment to glare at Sheila, who stuck her tongue out in response. "And… uh… we thank you for our health, for each other, and for the hope that one day, we shall take over the planet and make the pathetic human race bow down before us."

"Yeah, maybe _they_ can cook dinner next year," Jack muttered to Jacqueline.

"AMEN!" Mother Brainstorm bellowed.

To the half-surprise of everyone, she grabbed the turkey by its legs and dragged it across the table towards her. She ripped off both legs and began to chow down on them. They watched in bemusement as she devoured them down to the bones and continued on the rest of the bird.

Completely undeterred by his wife's eating habits, Father Brainstorm stood up, grabbed the carving knife and set to work. "So! Who wants dark meat?" he asked cheerfully.

* * *

All the way back at their house, Calvin and Hobbes were resting in their bed, fresh from their own Thanksgiving dinner.

"Why does half of Thanksgiving dinner have to be gross?" Calvin grumbled. "The road to dessert is paved with nasty."

"Says you," Hobbes replied, patting his stomach. "That was _heaven_. I wish your mom cooked like that more often."

Calvin rolled his eyes. "Well, our past selves will be arriving within the hour to collect the leftovers. Did we come up with a decent excuse to tell my parents where they went?"

"I'm aiming for 'gave them to a hobo', personally."

"That might work… Charitable donations are tax deductible. Dad might like it."

They were just snuggling into their pillows for a half-decent food coma when the MTM started vibrating.

"Sorry to interrupt your snooze, chaps, but we're getting a call from Yellowstone," the CD player announced.

"Oh, what now?!" Calvin whined, getting up and crawling across to his dresser. He popped the lid, allowing him to speak into the speaker grille within. "Hello?"

" _Hey, Calvin – it's Jack._ "

"What the heck do you want now, Jack? Thanksgiving is over!"

" _I know. Sorry. But we need you to come back up here for a few minutes. We need the Transmogrifier Gun again._ "

"What for? Did something go wrong with the dinner?"

" _No, that's the problem. The dinner went perfectly. It's the aftermath we're having trouble with…_ "

Calvin and Hobbes exchanged glances.

* * *

As Hobbes was too full for transport, he offered to stay behind to help their past selves, and Calvin teleported to Yellowstone by himself, complete with the Transmogrifier Gun. He approached the boulder and pressed the button.

Jack's voice came through the speaker. " _Calvin_?"

"Yeah."

" _Okay._ "

The boulder flipped backwards, and Calvin stepped inside. He rode all the way down, wondering if it was really as bad as Jack said.

When the doors opened, he was greeted by a very peculiar sight.

Dr Brainstorm and Father Brainstorm were tending to Mother Brainstorm, who was sprawled atop a triple-reinforced steel gurney with car tires on it to improve mobility. The woman in question lay bloated with a stomach that towered over them. Even though she had worn sweat pants for this occasion, they were still very restricting on her in this state. Sheila, Jack and Jacqueline stood off to the side, watching with a mixture of concern and annoyance.

Dr Brainstorm turned and saw Calvin. "Oh… good, you're here," he said awkwardly. "Did you bring it?"

Calvin pulled the Transmogrifier Gun out of his pocket and twirled it for all to see.

"He brought a weapon!" Sheila shrieked. "Jacqueline – defend!"

Jacqueline shrugged and stood in front of Sheila. "Done."

"Ah! Calvin, isn't it?" Father Brainstorm said brightly. "Don't suppose you could help us out? The missus had a bit too much for dinner."

Calvin felt a tad uncomfortable being addressed so politely by the father of one of his enemies. "Um… sure. What, er… what do you need?"

"A bigger and stronger elevator," Dr Brainstorm grumbled.

"We tried getting her out through the rocket hanger, but the rocket couldn't take off under her weight," Jack added.

Calvin nodded uncertainly. "Right… well, I think I can arrange that."

"Thank you, young man," Father Brainstorm said.

"AND NO FUNNY BUSINESS!" Sheila shouted, still hiding behind Jacqueline.

Calvin sighed and pointed the Transmogrifier Gun at the elevator. A laser shot out and caused it to expand by about three feet in all directions, making the interior much roomier for the occupants.

"There," he announced. "You should be able to fit a small blimp inside."

"Hey! That's my mother you're talking about!" Dr Brainstorm snapped.

Father Brainstorm got on the other side of the gurney. "Okay, sweetie, let's get you home!" he announced, giving her forehead a kiss.

Mother Brainstorm just belched in response.

Calvin whispered to Jack. "He's oddly at peace with the fact his wife's basically a beached whale."

Jack shrugged. "He seems to like it, actually. But then, physical attraction between humans has always been a bit confusing for me, anyway."

"Come on, family!" Father Brainstorm announced. "Give me a hand with your mother!"

Dr Brainstorm, Jack and Jacqueline joined him and helped get the gurney moving, shifting it down the lab to the elevator. It took a few tries, but soon, they had her inside. The whole thing creaked and groaned, but they managed to fit everyone inside. Sheila forced her way in after them.

"You sure you've got everything taken care of?" Dr Brainstorm asked.

"Not to worry, Franklin," his dad replied. "Just enjoy your evening. We'll call you when we're home."

"Okay, if you're sure…"

He made to leave, but Mother Brainstorm reached up and grabbed his sleeve. "Frank…," she croaked, half-gasping it out.

"Yes, mommy?"

"… Good job… on dinner… I knew you could… do it…"

Dr Brainstorm's heart swelled in his chest, and he couldn't help but grin cheesily. "Thanks, Mom," he said quietly, giving her torso a hug.

She responded by belching in his ear.

With that done, Dr Brainstorm and Jack stepped out of the elevator and into the lab, and the doors closed behind them. They listened as the elevator groaned and shuddered before it made the journey up.

Calvin stared at the doors. "… Did she leave _any_ leftovers?"

"Heck, she barely left the plates," Jack replied. "I'd call that a successful evening."

"And how," Dr Brainstorm agreed. Then he remembered Calvin and looked down at him. "Well…," he said slowly. "I guess, given the circumstances, it wouldn't be very sporting of me to kill you right now…"

"Probably not," Calvin replied, glaring at him.

"Well, I'll let you go, seeing as how it's Thanksgiving and a time of thanks… So thanks for your help… and, you know… darn you, and stuff."

"Yeah, whatever."

"And don't expect me to go this easy on you all the time!" he continued, trying to feel more like his old self. "I may have to disintegrate you next time!"

"Looking forward to it."

"Good! Now scram! Before I change my mind and become thankful for your _death_!" he snapped.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah… See ya, Jack."

"See ya, Calvin. Happy Thanksgiving."

"Happy Thanksgiving."

"STOP BEING FRIENDLY, JACK! YOU'RE WRECKING EVERYTHING!"

"Happy Thanksgiving, Frank," Calvin said calmly, walking towards the elevator.

"DR BRAINSTORM! HAPPY THANKSGIVING! _GET OUT!_ "

Smirking to himself, Calvin called for the elevator, and he was pleased to see it had survived the entire journey. He stepped inside and rode it to the top.

Dr Brainstorm and Jack stood there for a few moments.

"Well…," Brainstorm said, clearing his throat. "Nothing left to do but clean up."

"Guess so," Jack agreed. "Clear the table?"

"Put away the furniture?"

"Split the dishes?"

"Watch the DVR'd parade?"

"Solid."

"Groovy."

"Happy Thanksgiving."

"Happy Thanksgiving."

They set off to work, relieved the ordeal was over.


End file.
